


I Don't Belong... At Least Not Here

by grinningnightmare



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 09:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grinningnightmare/pseuds/grinningnightmare
Summary: Based off the wonderful Tumblr user @.chennn000's drawn post (please go check 'em out!).In an AU where Strange becomes acquainted with the Avengers long before Infinity War or Endgame, Christine invites him to a fancy gathering that he used to enjoy so much. He doesn't want to, but figures he owes it to her. And then she drops out for a last minute surgery, as in your typical storyline. And he's all alone. Perfect.'I don't feel like I have a place in this world anymore.'





	I Don't Belong... At Least Not Here

Stephen Vincent Strange regretted getting out of the car. Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange, that is to say. Or former Doctor Strange? It's kind of hard to specify. Either way, this was a terrible idea.

After rekindling his friendship with Christine, she had invited him to spend some time away from his work and join her at one of those fancy doctor galas that Stephen used to go to a lot. He dismissed the invitation. Even as a master of the mystic arts, his job never rested. Or more like the doctor himself didn't, always being a bit of a workaholic. Astral forms were convenient.

Anyways, after consistently bugging him, Christine got Strange to go. He handed off his duties to Wong, got a nice simple black suit and a green tie from Palmer, called up a taxi, and was on his way. The cape had helpfully taken the form of a lavish red coat, so Strange sure was going in style. An annoying style too, because it practically kept vibrating with excitement and Stephen had to keep the driver from seeing it.

"It's really not as exciting as you think it is," he whispered to the red cloth. It kept vibrating, ignoring him. Sighing, the Sorcerer Supreme turned his head to look out at the world past the window. Light shone on the streets, filtering through trees and bouncing off people's sunglasses. The sky was clear and the air warm, people wandering around and chatting absentmindedly, or doing the normal New Yorker walk of purpose towards their destination. It was always rather interesting to see somebody with a leisurely walk, unworried by the world's fast pace.

...Oh Vishnavi, who was he kidding? This was going to be an absolute disaster. Christine had just called him a little after his 3/4 mark of the journey in the car to tell the Sorcerer Supreme there was an emergency surgery at the hospital, and unless she wanted someone's death on her hands with no other doctors around (there was a flu in the workplace), she had to take care of it. Strange had been more than ready to bolt, but that was before the cape stubbornly kept him in place, he realized he was almost there, and he had to face his past eventually. Things always catch up to you.

That leads us to Strange's current position outside the fancy hall in midtown Manhattan, driver paid and breathing in slowly yet heavily. This was it. No turning back. Creating a portal in the middle of the street would screw everything up, wouldn't it? But oh he so desperately wanted to. Unfortunately, his red coat lead him up the stairs to the doors, where a man stood guard.

"Could I please see proof of an invitation, sir?" The guard asked nicely, smiling.

"Uh, sure," Strange replied as he pulled a printed invitation copy out of his pocket. Christine said he could come as his plus-one, but he wanted to play it safe.

"...Plus one to Christine Palmer?" He asked, dreadlocks bouncing beside his face.

"She couldn't make it," Strange explained, standing stiffly.

"Ah. Well, no matter." The man smiled and handed back the fancy invitation. "Enjoy the event!"

Strange automatically thanked him and stepped inside, sighing. The cape (coat) waited for him for a minute, and then dragged it's master to the hall full of noise and laughter. Stephen reluctantly followed along, black and graying hair pulled back and blue eyes shining.

Well, it was a large hall alright. Chairs lined the sidelines, curling wallpapers climbing up the walls and a few probably thousand-dollar paintings hung about, as if to emphasize 'we love money'.

Was that what being a doctor been all about? To get money? No, it had been to save people. He couldn't save his sister. He couldn't save Donna. So he would save others. But no matter how much he liked the Avengers, they always seemed to outshine him. He wasn't helping people. He had killed a man. He-

"Ow!" He grumbled, rubbing his cheek. The corner of his jacket was turned upwards, as if looking at him. He sighed. "...Thank you. But for now, I'm going to put you over here. And don't you dare start having a temper tantrum," he instructed firmly, hanging it on a coat rack nearby. The jacket stayed up dignantly, but eventually relaxed and watched Stephen get on with his evening.

...How was he supposed to do that?

The sorcerer settled on standing next to the buffet, endulging people who would strike up idle chit-chat with him, but would eventually move on. Twenty minutes in and Strange was seriously considering leaving. Eavesdropping on new medical procedures had barely been fun at first, and definitely wasn't anymore. Wasn't there supposed to be someone speaking up on that stage? What was taking so long?

"Doctor Strange!" A man who had once had Stephen speak at an event approached him, smile wide. "It's... fascinating to see you."

And like that, everyone in a five feet residence looked at him in surprise. After disappearing from his job without a trace, coming back for a 'secret' surgery and then going off the maps once again established that Strange no longer needed to boost his ego to get people to recognize his name. He hated it.

"Uh... Yes, that's me," he started, straightening his tie. He clasped his hands behind his back, trying to avoid a handshake. He didn't want pity nor questions on his shaking hands. "It's good to see you too."

"How has... the other life been?" The man- Gregory -started, not sure how to phrase it. "We haven't heard anything from you since that accident. How are your hands, by the way?"

"They're... fine," Stephen decided on. "Life has been far different. But I'd love to hear more on your end. I don't think my new line of work is worth sharing."

Gregory didn't hesitate. He started talking about all the surgeries he had performed, how he had helped people, the amount of money he was making, his brilliance, etc. Strange stood by and nodded, mind straying to other things.

After a while, Stephen excused himself. People talked all around him, words floating past his small bubble. Nobody tried to approach him. Nobody invited him over to talk about his brilliance. No one knew him.

He sat down on a red velvet chair on the side, a woman and a man dressed in black talking to their respective partners beside him. Stephen stared vacantly into space, eyes now green in the light as some vague painting hung above his head. Slowly, his legs moved from their casual crossed position and he gently put his head in his hands, muttering, "I don't feel like I have a place in this world anymore. I _don't_ have a place in this world anymore."

He had been denying it, but... That was the truth.

...

...

"It's not like we do either," a voice in front of him laughed, if not a little bitterly.

Head shooting up, the tired sorcerer held out his hands in front of him, ready to do a magic attack, but his resolve faltered when he saw who stood in front of him.

Tony Stark, king of the bastards, Pepper Potts, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Thor Odinson, Bruce Banner, and Steve Rogers.

"...What are you guys doing here?!?" Stephen hissed, standing up, trying to decide whether to be relieved or what.

"A little birdy told me you might be showing up here," Tony shrugged, sloshing his wine. "These guys were all in town so we thought to go for a stroll."

Stephen sighed, burying his head in his hands once again. "Oh dear Vishnavi..."

"I didn't come here to watch you mope around," Natasha announced, arms crossed in her slitted red dress. "Mind showing us the ropes?"

"I'd love to hear from other scientists," Bruce smiled, and then rubbed the back of his head. "It's been a while since I've gotten out of the lab..."

"I shall go grab refreshments!" Thor grinned, stumbling his way over to the table.

"...Please tell us there's no beer," Natasha begged.

"... There's beer," Stephen told her, and everyone let out a collective sigh.

"I'll go make sure he doesn't break anything," Steve smiled. "Just a moment."

The remaining Avengers and Stephen watched Steve walk after Thor, hopes high.

"Well, are we getting that tour or not?" Clint smirked.

Strange silently contemplated, and then stood up, brushing himself off. "For one night. Follow me. And please don't cause chaos."

"No promises." (In unison.)

Meanwhile, a red coat held up its arm from its hanger and shared a three-way high five with the pale hand of a doctor and the brown one of a sorcerer.


End file.
